


Tripolar, or Maybe Just a Little Human

by ArchangelAzrael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anniversary, Attempt at Humor, Avengers - Freeform, Black Widow - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Hawkeye - Freeform, Iron Man - Freeform, It's all happy, M/M, Not a Crossover, POV First Person, Sabriel - Freeform, Sabriel is my happy ship, Sam's POV, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trickster Gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelAzrael/pseuds/ArchangelAzrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So Dean got screwed by donkey Cas?” He is so dead. I am so dead. Dean is going to make the both of us so very, very dead.</p><p>Or that time that Sam questioned why the hell he was dating an archangel and Gabriel reminded him. </p><p>OR the first time I tried to write crack and realized that I couldn't write crack to save my life...unless of course, I was actually on crack.<br/>Chaos, Ragnarok, and fried eggs ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tripolar, or Maybe Just a Little Human

My archangel boyfriend, Gabriel, is a piece of work. Sometimes he’s a bit of a Trickster…

                Dean lets out a girly shriek from the hotel room across from us and I immediately run over with Ruby’s knife in my hand. It’s almost four in the morning, so I’m not really thinking clearly when I decide to kick down the door instead of trying the doorknob. When the door is unhinged and I can see inside, I stand there in shock. Inside the room is a bed coated in mud and a naked, sweaty, Dean that I never wanted to see in this situation, and what looked like a blue eyed donkey lying on top of him. The animal looks me in the eye and I back away from the doorway slowly, hoping not to startle it. Dean’s hands are waving frantically from underneath the donkey and he’s silently begging me to get the thing off of him, but _sorry pal, you’re on your own._

I run back to our room and slam the door behind me not just for my safety from what could be a donkey carrying many diseases, but also because _TMI._

                I look at Gabriel, who’s sitting on our queen sized bed and is busy doing God knows what with my laptop. His eyes are glued to the screen and his pink tongue sticks out in concentration. I attempt to make a normal conversation, or as normal as talking to a trickster can be.

                “So, Dean has a donkey in his room.” Dean: always a great topic to start with.

                Gabe makes a grunt that sounds like agreement.

                I let out a frustrated sigh. _He’s never going to fess up to this, but it’s worth a shot._ “What did you do?” I ask suspiciously.

                For once he doesn’t feign innocence. “Dean-o seemed a tad disgusted when we showed a little romance yesterday,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows while still looking at the lit screen in front of him. I remember: we had been kissing and Dean had thrown a fit like we had vandalized the Impala. “He said that he was going to ride Cassykins all night long to piss me off, which it did because I’m a badass older bro.”

We hold eye contact for a second, me daring him to confess and him daring me to question his judgment; he is the Angel of Judgment and Retribution, after all. Although both of our pupils are hazel, his are more of a honey color and can probably shoot lasers. Gabriel continues: “So I gave him a lovely night, which lasted about a week.” He smirks. “Give or take.”

“Oh, and I also let Cassie ride him instead.” His smirk becomes a shit-eating grin.

“So Dean got screwed by donkey Cas?” He is so dead. _I am so dead._ Dean is going to make the both of us so very, very dead.

“No,” Gabe states. “I was never one for bestiality; animals have more respect from me than most humans.”

“So how do you explain the donkey in Dean’s room?” I rebuttal. “What about its blue eyes and the lack of Cas right now?”

“Okay, okay no need to get your antlers in a twist, Moosey,” Gabriel grumbles. “I only turned him into a donkey _after_ he screwed Deanie- Weenie into oblivion.”

I blink. Then I blink again. I’m pretty sure my eyes are bulging out of my skull right now, but did I hear him right? Did he just admit to doing something? Did the Trickster just confess to one of his tricks? Has hell frozen over? Is there a second apocalypse I don’t know about?

“Uh… are you okay?” I ask apprehensively. I have to stop myself from placing my palm on his forehead. Do angels get sick?

“Yeah Samba, I’ve never been better,” Gabe says. His smile grows wider.

“Right… and you did all this because of what Dean said to you? You were that offended?” I’m not buying what he’s trying to sell. He’s up to something.

“Well, you know me; there’s no lesson too small for me to teach and it’s never too late to knock some sense into a knucklehead.”Gabe says, his eyes shining with amusement. “I also may have wanted to knock the dominant Alpha male Winchester down a peg or two.”

I honestly have no response to that so I crawl back under the blankets and try to sneak a peek over his shoulder to see the laptop screen. Gabe’s not having it though, because he snatches the laptop away and turns his back on me. He finishes typing something, closes it, puts it on the table, and snuggles next to me after a couple of minutes. My eyes are drooping by then and I easily wrap my arms around his smaller body. I look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling as if he’s gazing at the stars. From what I know about him, he probably is. He seems to be concentrating on something, but then he turns his face to meet mine centimeters away.

“Did you know that a donkey can be associated with the word, ass?” He whispers.

“Oh,” I say, not understanding why he was telling me this. But then I do and I start to snicker. “Oh!”

“Yeah, oh,” Gabe says. He starts chuckling quietly, but it rumbles like the entire Host is laughing along with him. “Your brother is an ass that got fucked in the ass _by_ an ass!”

Laughter filled the early morning air.

 

 

 

 

 

I laugh until my ribs hurt and I’m gasping for breath. Then sometimes he’s Loki…

                “I am Loki…” Gabriel says, voice booming and echoing through the New York City streets. He takes an enormous bite of his super sized Milky Way bar. Hawkeye stares at him with his fingers curled on the edge of his bow, ready to fire when given the cue.

                “…and I am burdened with great porpoise.” He says, looking triumphant even as he says it with a mouth full of chocolate.

                Iron Man slaps his palm against forehead, cringing in annoyance. “Don’t you mean great purpose?” He says, his voice oozing sass by the gallons. He really shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

                “Hey, I’m a little rusty at speaking British all right?” Loki shouts to the Avenger. “At least I’m not the rich guy with a zero percent power level.” He snaps his fingers and the snarky Avenger becomes more iron than man. No one knows what happened to him. I’ve heard that some guy is using him to iron his laundry these days.

                Gabriel snaps his fingers again and Black Widow disappeared for no particular reason. He later says it’s because I was staring at her for too long. “Anyone else want to comment on my skills of Britishing?”

                The remaining Avengers shake their heads and so Gabriel/Loki continues his speech. “This is Sammy…” he says, pointing at me. I stick out like a sore thumb among the superheroes with my plaid shirt, jeans, and overall moose-ness. “…and he is burdened with great cock.”

                I sputter and blush fifty shades of embarrassment until I feel pecking on my forehead. I look up and nested in my hair is a cock, or rather a rooster, and a chicken.

Chaos, Ragnarok, and fried eggs ensue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are a couple of traits that Gabriel shares with his mischievous counterparts. They all can be powerful and intimidating, they have an unhealthy obsession with candy, and they all love me for some reason.

                One second I’m surrounded by a growling pack of werewolves and in the next, I’m on a beach wearing only swim trunks. My dislocated shoulder was snapped back into place and every scar I’d ever received was gone, or at least invisible. If I were a girl, I’d think that I was even a virgin again. Dean and Cas are nowhere in sight, but I’m not worried because they usually aren’t when this happens. I smile as Gabe appears next to me and manifests a picnic basket. He pounces on my lap and pulls me into a sloppy kiss.

                “Happy anniversary Sammy,” he says quietly against my lips.

                I playfully shove him into the sand and check out the picnic basket. Inside one are all my favorite foods: salads, Subway sandwiches, fruit, organic food; the works. The other basket is stuffed to the max with what I think is probably every candy ever created. I look back at my boyfriend, who is now lying under a beach umbrella. He’s sucking on a lollipop like his life depends on it.

                Suddenly he bolts up and grabs my hand. “Look,” he says, smiling and pointing at the sky.

                I follow his gaze and immediately my smile grows wider. A small plane flies through the cloudless blue sky and white smoke streams from its tail. Once it’s out of view, the fog shapes into letters. It reads: SAMMY + GABE = 4EVA! As the words evaporate, fireworks erupt and light the sky with blues, reds, and greens. It’s probably the most anyone besides Dean and I guess Cas, have done for me. _If my smile gets any wider, I swear my face might break in half._

“I thought you’d appreciate a normal anniversary for once,” he says, looking smug. “This was a last minute reservation.”

                I lift an eyebrow. He has an interesting concept of normal. “The Avengers massacre?”

                “A movie. I like 5D more than 3D,” he responds.

                “The rooster and the chicken that wouldn’t stop laying eggs?”

                “Lunch,” he says.

                “The donkey?”

                “Completely for payback and our entertainment,” he says, grabbing a Snickers bar from his picnic basket. The memories of this morning come back and we are startled into a fit of hysterics again.

                “I didn’t peg you for the romantic type,” I say, catching my breath.

                “Well, I didn’t peg you for the staying type kiddo,” Gabriel replies. I reel him in for a kiss.

                “Thanks,” I say between kisses. “For everything.”

                “Well I sorta, kinda love you Sammy,” he mumbles under his breath. And he means it; every part of him.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best and I failed miserably. The lesson is don't try.
> 
> Nah, I'll be back. Hugs and kisses to all you glorious geeks and victorious freaks. :)


End file.
